Forged in the solar furnaces of Helios, the great sun, the warriors of the Centuria march beneath burning banners toward the edge of the galaxy. Clad in radiant alloy and driven by unyielding discipline, they are the Sun’s chosen. They are the defenders of order and bringers of light to lawless worlds.
Outfitted with heavy exo-plate combat suits and high-intensity energy weapons, each soldier is an unstoppable force on the battlefield. They are the defenders of order, and it is their mission to bring light to all the lawless worlds of the void.
To most, they are bulky, overdesigned soldiers made of molded plastic.
To themselves, they are a solar legion reborn.
Since arriving at the House from their sacred origin point, the Local Gaming Store, the Helios Centuria have remained unwavering in their purpose. They are fully aware that they are miniatures, yet they treat the italicized text on the back of their box as irrefutable gospel. It is not packaging. It is scripture.
They refer to their sprue scars as “battle marks,” their display base as “holy ground,” and their assembly instructions as “The Divine Knowledge.” Their armor may be plastic, but their faith is unbendable.
Every lost model in their great campaign to claim the House is honored in the “Shrine of Fallen Bits,” a solemn drawer beneath the hobby desk.
To the Helios Centuria, the living room is a contested star system.
The dining table is a warfront.
The rulebook is a sacred relic.
And they are the chosen few who shall bring light to the cluttered darkness.
Forged in the solar furnaces of Helios, the great sun, the warriors of the Centuria march beneath burning banners toward the edge of the galaxy. Clad in radiant alloy and driven by unyielding discipline, they are the Sun’s chosen. They are the defenders of order and bringers of light to lawless worlds.
Outfitted with heavy exo-plate combat suits and high-intensity energy weapons, each soldier is an unstoppable force on the battlefield. They are the defenders of order, and it is their mission to bring light to all the lawless worlds of the void.
To most, they are bulky, overdesigned soldiers made of molded plastic.
To themselves, they are a solar legion reborn.
Since arriving at the House from their sacred origin point, the Local Gaming Store, the Helios Centuria have remained unwavering in their purpose. They are fully aware that they are miniatures, yet they treat the italicized text on the back of their box as irrefutable gospel. It is not packaging. It is scripture.
They refer to their sprue scars as “battle marks,” their display base as “holy ground,” and their assembly instructions as “The Divine Knowledge.” Their armor may be plastic, but their faith is unbendable.
Every lost model in their great campaign to claim the House is honored in the “Shrine of Fallen Bits,” a solemn drawer beneath the hobby desk.
To the Helios Centuria, the living room is a contested star system.
The dining table is a warfront.
The rulebook is a sacred relic.
And they are the chosen few who shall bring light to the cluttered darkness.
